


A Burden Shared

by WerewolvesAreReal



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Angst, Blood of Tyrants Spoilers, Book 8: Blood of Tyrants, Canonical Assumed Character Death, China, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Off-Screen Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerewolvesAreReal/pseuds/WerewolvesAreReal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tharkay meets the British party in Nagasaki with news, prompting them to move onward quickly. In the meantime he learns of Laurence's fate and speaks with Temeraire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Burden Shared

**Author's Note:**

> “...they take it very hard, you see, losing a handler, and they are more likely to accept a new one if it is someone they have some connection to, and whom they feel shares their grief.” - Jane Roland, Throne of Jade

The sky is very blue over Nagasaki. Beneath Temeraire the _Potentate_ sways quietly in the harbor. It is worse by far than traveling over an ocean, where at least the shifting of the ship is not monotonous.

The sailors are not inclined to come near the dragondeck, but he still must suffer through the side-eyed glances of Lily and Maximus as well as all their officers. Iskierka, for once, is almost a relief; she may be scornful of his surety that Laurence is still alive, but she does not act like he is a sick hatchling. If this is, indeed, the only place open to travelers in Japan, Temeraire does not see why everyone should be wasting any time. Laurence may be hurt or injured or in some other terrible trouble, but no one seems to care. After the first several days of waiting he entertains a dark suspicion that he shares with Maximus:

“I do not think they want him back at all,” he says. “He is a traitor, and you know the Aerial Corps always wanted another captain for me; they would not kill him themselves so they mean to let the sea do it.”

Maximus assesses him a moment. “We are heading toward China,” he says at last. “Where Laurence was a prince – it would be an odd time to do it.”

Temeraire ruffles his wings. “Well. Well, it is all a matter of convenience.”

“No convenience at all, I think, any of this.” After a pause he says, “I am sorry, Temeraire - “

Temeraire decides to go into the water for a swim instead. The Chinese traders in the harbor cheer and throw flowers at him. When he asks, none of them have seen a blond Englishman in a green coat except for those on his own ship.

They have been in the harbor for an entirely unacceptable amount of time when something finally happens.

It starts with the commissioner rowing out to meet them. This is an event which cannot help but incite Temeraire's greatest curiosity, and as soon as the man's dinghy comes up to the _Potentate_ he lowers his head beside the water to demand, “Have you found Laurence at last, then?”

The man sputters. He is saved the task of answering when Immortalis flies around to lift the boat aboard, passengers and all, which seems to silence rather than encourage the human. Temeraire mutters darkly against his own neck and turns to glare at the Yellow Reaper.

In the horribly useless way of humans, the commissioner is only interested in addressing Captain Blaise, Hammond, and 'the senior aviator'. After some minor confusion – the latter is, technically, Catherine - Berkley rather abashedly joins the others.

“A man has come asking for you,” says the commissioner. “He claims to be an acquaintance, and I would be glad indeed if you could take him from my hands.”

“Who the devil would know us here?” Berkley asks.

Laurence would, of course. Temeraire refrains from saying this purely for the pleasure of turning expectantly, waiting for the sweet words to fall from the governor's mouth -

“He is a Chinaman,” the commissioner says. “I do not understand it myself how he came to be here through the mainland; he says he fled from that country weeks ago, being pursued, and I do believe it. He is badly damaged.”

Temeraire bows his head. “We are not taking in some refuge-enemy of the Imperial Crown,” protests Hammond. “Anyone who fled from the government could not have done so for a good reason.”

Which is, of course, a preposterous lie; Temeraire has ignored, quarreled with, and outright avoided the government all for very excellent reasons himself. Admittedly, however, he has not yet seen anything in China worth fleeing from.

“Well, _something_ must be done with the man.”

“You have not even said who he is,” Berkley points out.

“It does not matter!” Hammond protests. “Captain, you must be aware of the importance of our mission. We are already in a perilous position with the loss of Captain Laurence - we cannot allow any conflict to come between us and the Chinese, and surely taking in an enemy of their forces could only be considered an act of contempt, if not a deliberate insult.”

The commissioner looks bored with this debating. “Do as you like,” he says. “But I will have him gone from my city soon, one way or another. And as for your question,” he addresses Berkley now, “The man's name is Tenzing Tharkay.”

And at once both men fall perfectly silent.

* * *

 

“You cannot understand my relief when I saw the British flag,” Tharkay says. “I had only hoped to send a message to you by the commissioner and beg passage to England, or perhaps some other country; I could in no way expect to finish my assignment in this condition.”

Tharkay's hands have been hideously disfigured. He seems to have set most of the bones himself, but the work was difficult and imperfect. Temeraire demanded to watch, with anxious interest, as the dragon-surgeon Pettiforth clucked over the half-healed damage and went about re-breaking several fingers to get them healing in the proper places. It was a gruesome thing.

“Torture, yes, though I barely know why. The soldiers wanted a false confession out of me – they accused me of smuggling opium to China,” he tells Hammond scoffingly when everyone meets on the dragondeck to hear his news. “It is the Chinese themselves running the matter – a small group wishing to ruin trade with the West through distrust. That is not all the bad news; Temeraire, I am sorry, but Lung Tien Chuan is dead.”

Temeraire recoils in sudden shock. “Dead!” he cries.

“Poisoned. To destabilize the throne, rumor has it – without a Celestial by his side Mianning's right to rule is in question. All politics.” Tharkay shakes his head. “This is not my main news, and I do not know if you will still be headed toward China – but you will need to be wary if you do mean to arrive there. I do not think they will try to separate you from Laurence, but desperation may affect a man in strange ways.”

A horrible hush falls over the deck.

Water laps at the ship's sides, and for a moment this seems to be the only sound in the world. Tharkay pauses and looks around. No one will meet his eyes. He turns at last to Granby. “I have not seen Laurence since coming aboard,” he says simply.

“No. He went overboard, off Fukuoka. In a gale – he was not found.”

Tharkay nods once. He clasps his hands behind his back and stares at nothing for a moment. “I will give you Admiral Roland's directions in an hour,” he says flatly. Then he turns and walks off the deck without looking back.

No one goes after him. Laurence might have, Temeraire thinks. That, of course, is the problem.

But he would like very much to call Tharkay back and tell him that he has the wrong impression entirely; Laurence is missing, but he will return. The others will only hush him if he tries, however, so he waits and broods, and over time he hears the news.

Tharkay's message is this; there is warring, because of course there is warring. With Napoleon there is always warring. The battle is being fought on two fronts; there is continual fighting in Spain, where reinforcements are direly needed, and also there is word that Napoleon is assembling a vast and terrible army – a _Grande Arm_ _é_ _e –_ to launch an unprecedented attack on Russia.

Almost everyone is of the opinion that they should turn back at once – but something rare has happened, and Temeraire finds himself agreeing with Hammond.

“We cannot simply leave without paying our respects to the Emperor,” he says. “Think only of what an insult it would be – and think, too, of what they might imagine upon learning that an adopted prince has _died_ under our watch, and we chose to turn around and flee instead of bringing forth the news? We may well be branded murderers. This whole situation already has the makings of a diplomatic disaster, and if there is any chance of mending it, we must go to China. We are nearly there, after all, and we cannot afford war with them as _well.”_

Grudgingly, this reasoning is accepted. “But we are not needed here,” says Lily. “You and Temeraire, yes, but we should be fighting.”

“I doubt it shall be a long visit – I doubt they shall _want_ it to be a long visit,” Hammond says. “We shall make better arrangements from there, anyway, and get a solid idea of this opium situation that you can bring back to England; surely it cannot be so serious, and surely the Emperor realizes we are not to blame, but I would like a first-hand report nonetheless.”

Grudgingly, the others agree. And Captain Blaise declares that they will make way immediately – they will certainly set out at once, for the sooner they make China the sooner they will leave the place for England.

Tharkay comes to sit with Temeraire on the dragondeck when the ship leaves Nagasaki. “The others tell me you still think Laurence is alive.”

“I have asked several of the dragons to watch for his return, and all the Chinese who are in the harbor. Why do we have to leave? I am sure the Emperor would understand.”

“We cannot wait forever, Temeraire – not for this.”

“You say that like he is not worth waiting for.”

“Laurence... is worth everything,” says Tharkay. “He would not want you to forget to live for his sake, however; I have not seen you fly once since my return.”

“I was injured.”

“You have recovered.”

Temeraire shifts his wings. “They do not trust me to fly alone,” he says quietly. “Ferris or Forthing will not replace him; why do they try?” He tilts back his long neck to look at the sky. It is a cloudless day. “I will fly with you; will you come?”

Tharkay agrees, and after a word with Emily he obtains a carabiner to attach to Temeraire's breastplate. Unharnessed, Temeraire waits impatiently for him to settle before launching himself into the air.

His joints ache from days of lying on deck. Temeraire weaves in slow patterns through the air, inhaling the clean cold scent of the higher atmosphere. Tharkay's weight is a warm presence against his neck.

It would be foolish to fly toward the shore. But Laurence is somewhere on the island of Japan. It is such a small place to cause so much grief; surely he could fly over the whole country in a day, perhaps two. But he cannot – more of these human laws – and with every second Laurence may be sickening, growing feverish with injury. He is alone and without hope of comfort – what kind of companion is Temeraire, to abandon him?

Tharkay touches his neck. Sighing, Temeraire continues to fly.

When the _Potentate_ is only a tiny child's-toy on the horizon Temeraire becomes aware of an odd sound, low and changing. He puzzles over it for a moment because the sound seems to follow him, creeping into his ears, and then he realizes that Tharkay is humming.

The noise stops. “No, do not stop,” he says. Muscles twitch against his back. “Do you know more?”

Temeraire wings down to skim over the ocean's surface, letting sea-spray splash his face before beating back up. He allows air-currents to do the hard work for awhile, finding a likely flying position; behind him Tharkay begins to sing a nearly-inaudible tune in a language he does not know.

“What is that?” Temeraire asks when this finishes.

Tharkay understands him. “Nepali – I know English much better.”

“It sounds very nice to me. I would like to learn it. Will you teach me?”

“I would be honored.”

They return to the ship before it is too dark. Tharkay has difficulty with the carabiners, Temeraire realizes as the man dismounts; his hands make the descent clumsy. “Oh, I am sorry. I should never have made you fly.”

“It was my own choice, and I am glad that you have had a chance to stretch your wings. Would you like to fly again tomorrow?”

“I believe so,” Temeraire says. He turns his neck around. Japan is impossible to see now. “Do you think that when we are in China we will hear of Laurence?”

“...I am certain that the Emperor will want to be very thorough about the matter. It is entirely possible he will send men to Japan himself, to the site of the wreck; remember his dragons are very fast.”

Temeraire brightens. “That had not occurred to me. In that case perhaps it is good that we are going, after all. Surely they will help us find Laurence.”

“Something may well be found,” says Tharkay softly. He reaches out to touch Temeraire's leg. “Sleep well.”

* * *

 

It is not a long voyage to Tien-Sing Harbor. Temeraire knows this. But the wait is unbearable, and he sets back his ruff when Forthing tries to coax him into eating another goat.

“I very much do not want it,” he says. “And I do not need it. Do not think I do not know what you are trying to do, acting low and sneaking as soon as Laurence as gone. Well, I will not have you, I will never have you; leave me alone.”

Forthing crumples and flees.

“That was unkind.”

Temeraire swivels his head around to look at Tharkay, who has just come up the deck and is approaching. Other aviators are also scattered about and must have heard his outburst, but they are pointedly looking at anything but Temeraire. “It was not untrue,” he says.

“It was unkind,” Tharkay repeats.

Temeraire's ruff lowers against his neck. “...They will not stop,” he says meekly. “Some of them were very angry at me before, you know – not Forthing but others – and now I am not a traitor but a dragon they wish to possess. It is not fair.”

Tharkay considers him. “I am going to tell you something about my father's friends,” he decides.

Temeraire perks up, reluctantly interested. Tharkay so rarely talks of his past that every occasion seems like a treat.

“My father was a gentleman, as you know – a rather insignificant lord – but of course I would never be any such thing, due to my mother's heritage and their lack of marriage. But he kept me in his house. His company would speak over my head about the Oriental servant at the table, or if they knew better ignore me entirely; they would openly advise my father to have me sent away, abandoned."

“And then after the failed MacArtney expedition there was great talk of trade with China, and then more talk of Britain becoming allies of the East as missionaries spoke of the need to spread Western thoughts. So suddenly I became an image of their charity-efforts, instead of their failures. And they sang a very different tune, when my presence was useful to them; in a like situation I once met an acquaintance of my father's who tried to hire me for my skills as a translator, presuming to ask for a favor as though he had not kicked me in the ribs as an infant.”

Temeraire considers this story, lashing his tail angrily. “...You are not making me feel any better,” he points out sulkily.

At that, Tharkay gives him a faint smile. “Because of the ill-use of these gentleman, I found it in good sense to remain my own confidante. It is hard to be injured if you extend your trust to no one. And then some eight years ago I met Laurence in the desert – and of course I did not trust him, either, and so he did not trust me for a very long while. That lack of trust nearly lost us our lives, and I nearly missed on having a very dear friend. I have since found that it can sometimes – sometimes – be good sense to extend a similar faith in others, and I am rarely disappointed. Do not let your own suspicions hurt you in place of an imagined threat, Temeraire.”

Temeraire considers this with a lowered head. “I believe I understand,” he says. “And, Tharkay. I am very glad that you decided to trust us.”

“As am I.”

* * *

 

Tharkay teaches him a few words in Nepali, and it pleases Temeraire to repeat them quietly to himself when the sailors go through their daily rituals. _“Basanta, Grishma, Barkha, Sharad, Hemanta, Shishir - “_

“You always seem to get us out of the tight spots,” he hears Granby say to Tharkay. “He is much better since you arrived.”

“I am glad you say so. But do not be deceived by appearances, John.”

* * *

 

Tharkay has an old book, mostly full of pictures, which he shows to Temeraire. “You cannot see them well,” he says as Temeraire leans forward and nearly presses his snout against the pages, “More the pity. But I will teach you anyway.”

He tells Temeraire slowly and carefully how he might identify different trees. It does not seem like a particularly useful skill. “Do you think I teach myself anything that is not useful?” Tharkay asks, and Temeraire concedes with embarrassment that, of course, Tharkay is quite right.

The leaves of trees can show where one is in the world, and where water might be found – a valuable trait for a dragon jumping from continent to continent. “I have been making my own books and notes, especially since our journey to the Americas. We have almost nothing on the trees there.”

But Tharkay's knowledge does not end at trees – he knows about bushes and mosses and birds and animal-tracks, and the ways clouds might signify rain, snow or lightning. He can even tell how to predict the subtle and swift change of the wind. “These are all important to a person surviving alone. Or to a dragon.”

“I am not alone, I should hope,” says Temeraire uncertainly.

“No, you are not,” Tharkay agrees. “But it is good knowledge nevertheless.”

Somehow, this assurance makes Temeraire feel much better.

* * *

 

For years Emily has helped wash Temeraire after his meals, though Sipho has also taken to the task with enthusiasm. As they scrub him down Dulcia lands on Temeraire's back, followed by Nitidus.

Maximus and Lily are watching him, too, and even Iskierka. Kulingile is steadily eating his third vat of food, which Maximus is clearly trying to ignore. “What is it?” he demands.

“We wish to know if you are still mad,” says Iskierka helpfully.

“I was never mad.”

“No, of course not,” says Lily quickly. “It is only, do you still think,” she hesitates, lowering her voice. “Do you still think Laurence is alive?”

“Well of course he is.”

Dulcia and Nitidus shift, which is uncomfortable, so of course he flaps his wings a little. He is not sure why the others look so alarmed.

“And wherever did you get the idea that I am mad?” he demands.

Emily has apparently finished scrubbing him, because she is putting away the cloths even though there is still a bit of blood between one of his talons. She takes Sipho's hand and darts away. Maximus wiggles forward in the cramped space of the dragondeck, and Temeraire huffs in surprise when the Regal Copper pushes his neck and upper chest over Temeraire's side to put a not-inconsiderable portion of his forty-ton weight on the Celestial.

“We do not much mind if you are mad,” he assures, which is not actually comforting. “And we will be here when you are not.”

Temeraire grumbles. But Nitidus and Dulcia are arranging themselves, and Maximus is not, he tells himself, _quite_ so heavy; or anyway if he were heavy the press of his body against Temeraire's side would hardly feel so nice. Temeraire lets himself sag against the deck and closes his eyes.

* * *

 

It is not so strange for the aviators to walk the decks at night, restless; they have little to do during the day and also little to fatigue them. When Temeraire sits up one night and sees Tharkay walking toward him he is somehow unsurprised.

Temeraire puts down his head to nudge his friend. “Could you not sleep?” he whispers. Somewhere nearby Nitidus makes a snuffling sound.

“When I encounter such a difficulty I might carve wood or even take thread to damaged supplies until my mind grows quiet; there is very little to do with damaged hands.”

“I imagine it must be like having damaged wings,” Temeraire says. Even the thought is horrific. “But, they will recover. Can I help you?”

“I do not see how – no, I merely meant to take a walk. I do not mean to disturb you.”

“You do not disturb me, you never disturb me. Sit with me, if you are not tired, and we will wait until you are.”

After a moment Tharkay acquiesces. He climbs up to Temeraire's back and sits in the hollow of his shoulder; Temeraire lays his head down and looks up at the stars.

He wonders if, somewhere, Laurence is looking for him.

Eventually, he realizes that Tharkay is not twitching at all. His breathes are slow and steady, and so Temeraire assumes he will not be returning to his cabin. Satisfied to have helped the man so easily, he closes his own eyes and drifts away to sleep.

* * *

 

Tharkay has always kept his own schedule, so it is not so strange when he does not appear even once the next day. Temeraire does not imagine that there is much to do on the _Potentate,_ and thinks uncharitably that the man might at least walk by; but he does not want to complain, of course.

“This is so _very dull,”_ he tells Granby. “Are we nearly to China?”

“Two days more, I should say.”

Temeraire drops his head against the deck and sighs loudly.

The captains are playing cards on the dragondeck now that the journeying is even slower and the deck's motion has gentled; there are small Chinese ships moving all about, crossing from one side of the nation to the other, and the behemoth _Potentate_ is wary of drawing too close.

“You damn cheat,” says Warren without rancor. “That must be the fifth Jack you've drawn.”

“If it is, then you are counting cards,” says Chenery cheerfully, and beside him Little snorts.

Temeraire tries to keep his attention on the game – he has never quite managed to understand the point of the little cards, or why a queen should be beneath the king, or what an 'ace' is – but there is an empty space next to Granby and he keeps looking there. His stomach feels painfully tight, though he ate only this morning. He shakes his head from side to side and lets his tail lash against the railing.

“Temeraire?”

The voice is Harcourt's, but all the captains are watching him.

“Shall I send for Emily to read to you?” she asks hesitantly.

The thought is somehow the least appealing thing in the world. “No. No. Please do not – please do return to your game,” he says, and wills his tail to be still. His claws clench and scrape tightly against the wooden floorboards.

Dubiously, the captains turn away.

Tharkay reappears the next day as though he has never been gone at all. “Were you only belowdecks all yesterday?” Temeraire asks at once. “Not that I mind, you see, only it could not be very interesting...”

“I was, and it was not particularly,” is his reply. “But too much company can be stifling; sometimes it is best to have a little quiet. Even if the spaces on a ship do not much lend themselves to peaceable thoughts.”

Temeraire considers this. “When I hatched,” he says haltingly, “Laurence had me taken to his own quarters – I slept there for a week while I was growing, until they thought I would be too big to walk past the door. It was small, I think, but so was I; and it was so very quiet. I have never had a time so restful since, as those first few days with just him and I. I enjoy company very much but I do see why you might like silence too.”

Tharkay quirks a brow. A small smile tugs at his mouth. “Shall we find a way to make you smaller? I am sure Kulingile and Maximus would assist our efforts.”

“...Perhaps not.”

Tharkay regards him, amusement fading. “You surprise me sometimes.” He pauses. “...Do not be mistaken; never believe I do not appreciate your company. Now, shall we fly again?”

* * *

 

They make landing in Tien-Sing and are greeted personally by the governor, who is awaiting them with a missive by the Emperor.

It is of course directed to Laurence, and the governor seems politely baffled to not find him among their party. He does not, of course, presume to ask after the behavior of an Imperial Prince.

After a brief argument Gong Su takes custody of the letter and informs them that it contains only general greetings and a wish for their quick journey, along with “more personal urgings, not appropriate for anyone but the Prince.”

Temeraire would dearly love to see the letter, but Gong Su does not offer. After a conversation with Captain Blaise the dragons move outside the city to ready themselves for the short flight to Peking.

Temeraire watches the preparations alone; he will not have any crew for the flight, as this would be considered an insult to him on behalf of the Chinese. Laurence might have flown with him, of course. But Laurence is not here.

The egg, at least, is allowed to be strapped to his chest; this arrangement intrigues Tharkay, who it seems has somehow not heard of the egg's existence in his week with the company. “Oh!” says Temeraire. “It is the most splendid egg in the world, of course, because it is mine – you absolutely must see it, we will show you.”

But Hammond comes over to argue that there is no time to waste; and anyway the egg will probably be shown to the Emperor and Prince Mianning, so Tharkay can see it then. “But he should certainly see it _now,”_ Temeraire says plaintively. “He might have seen it before, if I had remembered.”

“Well that is your fault and not ours – though it is a splendid egg,” says Iskierka.

Tharkay goes aboard _her,_ which is not satisfactory at all. “I do not see why you should have both Granby _and_ Tharkay, now,” Temeraire says to her.

“I do not want Tharkay at all - but if you are too delicate to fly with a crew I suppose I shall have him.”

Who would not want Tharkay? Temeraire feels his ruff raise indignantly.

But Tharkay is watching him calmly. With minor grumbling he turns away and watches Dulcia, Messoria and Nitidus claim their crews. Immortalis is speaking quietly with Little as the latter arranges the buckles of his harness; Churki cheerfully harasses Hammond to get aboard her back, and the rest of their escort pile among the other three heavy-weights. Even Emily waves to him from Maximus' broad shoulders; he sighs.

O'Dea trundles by with a pile of harness. “Now, there, be cheery,” he tells Temeraire. “For we may be flying to the end of the world, but luck is with us at last.”

“Why is that?”

“Why, it has been clear skies this past week, and good weather and company weeks more; now a man's life is a poor thing to lose, but I will not say no to buying some fortune with it. Some pale god of chaos followed that Captain of yours, dealing out love and curses like a flighty paramour, and now they are both gone. No fault of him: but to _riddance_ with his luck _,_ then, and may we have good solid boredom going onward - “

It takes a moment for Temeraire to realize quite what O'Dea is saying. When he does, he moves quickly, striking out a claw and blocking O'Dea's path when the man would continue walking. O'Dea freezes as Temeraire lowers his head very close.

“Are you implying,” he asks quietly, “That it is a good thing Laurence is dead?”

O'Dea swallows. He says nothing.

Temeraire's turns his head to the sky when he roars, but O'Dea still crumples under the force of it, half-wild and powered by rage. Temeraire sweeps out his foot and flings the human's body across the ground; it rolls grotesquely as bones snap against the wind. His shoulders bunch as he puts his head over the body.

“Temeraire!”

Temeraire opens his jaw.

“That is enough – stop it!”

Something hits the side of his snout and bounces away. Blinking, Temeraire looks around. Tharkay is glaring at him.

“But you did not hear - “

“I heard.”

Temeraire turns his head. Pettiworth and two of Chenery's men are inspecting O'Dea; the man is unmoving, but after a moment Pettiworth turns to one of the midwingmen and says a word. He rushes off.

“Alive, barely,” Pettiworth says. “He will not be able to make the flight.”

This slows arrangements. Pettiworth sets O'Dea's broken bones and sees to his immediate injuries as a stiff stretcher is made, to be strapped to Nitidus. No one openly censures Temeraire – others were close enough to hear O'Dea, too - but he folds his wings against his back and moves away.

Tharkay follows him.

“He should have said nothing about Laurence,” says Temeraire lowly. “I could have killed him for it.”

“I do not disagree; however, you cannot claim to be acting on behalf of Laurence while spurning the very standards by which he lived.”

“Laurence will understand when he returns.”

There is no reply. Temeraire pauses, then ducks his head and scuffs one large talon over the ground. He opens a great furrow in the earth. Worms squirm under the surface. “When he returns,” Temeraire repeats.

Still, Tharkay is quiet. This silence is worse than anything; Temeraire knows the beats and twitches of a mute Tharkay, and somehow this man's weighted pause makes the noose around his lungs clench all the tighter. “You are just like the others!” he bursts out. “He will return – Laurence will come back.”

“I am sure that if he could, not a thing in the world would stop him,” Tharkay says.

Temeraire wants to launch himself in the air, but his wings are quivering. “He has always come back.”

Tharkay steps closer to him. He puts a hand on Temeraire's jaw; this close, his eyes seem very bright, and when he blinks a brief glimmer of water flicks over his lashes like dew. He says, “I am sorry.”

In Pen Y Fan, so far away and so near to memory, Temeraire split a mountain asunder at the news of Laurence's death. Perhaps grief, and acceptance, is different from that raging horror; or perhaps he is too tired of the world to roar. He lowers his head to the ground and lets his talons tear quietly into the dirt, struggling to remember how to breathe; and Tharkay does not leave him.

* * *

 

They arrive at Peking subdued. Laurence is meant to greet the Emperor; Laurence cannot greet the Emperor, because Laurence is dead.

With minor convincing the palace guards allow Temeraire, Hammond, Berkley and Tharkay to enter the palace alone with the reasoning that they have an explanation for Laurence's absence.

They see another man of Western looks in the Imperial Palace; but upon seeing their party he makes an inquiry of Tharkay, asking only where Laurence is. Upon finding that Laurence is gone he seems unsatisfied and makes his departure. Temeraire spares it no further thought.

They realize one horrible error as soon as they enter, and Temeraire can see realization and despair strike Hammond's face; without Laurence, there is no one to make the kowtow.

There is a very unpleasant pause while the Emperor and Prince wait for these formalities. Temeraire abruptly steps forward.

 _He_ will certainly not kowtow, but then, it is not expected of him.

“I am very sorry,” he says. “I do not have good news at all, and I – it is the most awful thing imaginable.”

The Emperor simply watches him.

“Laurence is dead,” he says.

Behind him Berkley makes a sharp noise; perhaps they did not expect him to really say it. Temeraire focuses hard on the Emperor's red and golden robes for a moment, fighting the dizziness in his head, and when he looks again Mianning is staring at him. The Emperor seems thoughtful.

“China will grieve the loss of a Son of Heaven,” he says at last. “And to you we can only offer the comforts and condolences that might be found on this mortal world, Lung Tien Xiang; is it true that Laurence still has had no sons?”

This hardly seems the point. “No. He had no children. He had two brothers.”

“Younger?”

“Older.”

A few more points are clarified. The Emperor shakes his head. “If the body is lost, then there is nothing to be done. We will pray, of course.”

And that is that. Temeraire does not know particularly what he expected, but the simple acceptance of the Chinese does not sit well with him. Later, he hears that an announcement has been made; the people are instructed to 'mourn'; but it is not, even Granby and the others say, like a royal mourning would proceed in England.

He tries to explain this to Qin Mei the next day when they have tea in her pavilion. She is a patient conversationalist, but never quite fails to make him feel like he is blundering. “It is not as though I want them to be sad,” he says. “Only, I do not want to have this feeling alone. You do not – you cannot understand. You _cannot.”_

“I would not like to, I expect,” she says quietly.

“He will be forgotten,” says Temeraire. “He is dead and he will be forgotten. But he is the most important person in the world.”

Mei shakes her head, and the movement sends the shimmering sapphires set about her neck swinging through the air. “No, Xiang. You may have many reasons to grieve, but that is not among them. Laurence will be remembered throughout history. He is a prince, and that alone places him in a spot of honor among our people; a foreign prince is unprecedented. Can you say that he has made no contributions worth recalling among the wars of your own lands? One day a student will say, 'tell me more of Prince William Laurence and Lung Tien Xiang– what adventures they had together!'”

Temeraire straightens. “We have done many splendid things,” he agrees. “Laurence has spoken to Emperors and Kings and the Sultan; even Napoleon respected him, though he is was enemy. Laurence is very worth remembering.”

“And so he will be remembered,” Mei tells him. “You need never fear that, Xiang, and if ever anyone forgets, you need only remind them.”

* * *

 

Prince Mianning is very complimentary toward the egg, which he should be. It is said that Celestials have not had eggs outside Imperial lines before, so everyone is very interested to see how it will hatch; Iskierka thinks the egg will become as splendid or perhaps even better than any dragon has been before, and for once Temeraire is not inclined to argue with her.

Mianning asks Temeraire to sit with him one day and together they listen to a dragon-poet who weaves words about the view of the world from mountain-tops, the first pangs of a shell splitting open, the rise and fall of empires and small-lived men. This last, perhaps, is too much. The poet is dismissed, and a vat of tea is brought out for Temeraire while Mianning cradles his own small cup and they watch apple-blossoms fall in the garden.

Mianning asks what he thinks of China. Temeraire says sincerely that it seems to be the finest place in the world. “It is peaceful and lovely and wonderful, and there are so many things for a dragon to do,” he says.

“Your words are a kindness and an honor. I hope this nation may stay so prosperous,” Mianning murmurs.

“Why should it not?”

Mianning observes the garden. “There has been much discontent in the court since Lung Tien Chuan's passing.”

Abashed, Temeraire expresses his condolences. “Of course the loss of such a splendid dragon would be disruptive,” he adds.

Mianning takes a slow sip of tea until his cup is empty. The silence stretches out. “I may not be able to rule,” he says at last.

Temeraire is surprised. “Whyever would you say that? You shall be a good ruler. Even Laurence spoke well of your sensibilities to China,” which is the highest compliment he can think to offer, “and Laurence did not think particularly well of many kings or emperors, I think.”

“That is gracious – and circumstances allowing I hope it shall be true.”

“Circumstances shall certainly allow,” says Temeraire firmly.

Mianning refills his tea. He returns to observing the flowers, but he does at least seem much more at ease.

* * *

 

Temeraire is headed to the Ten Thousand Lotus Palace to meet Qian when he spots Tharkay sitting alone in the gardens.

He pauses. He will be late soon, but he has not spoken to Tharkay in what feels suddenly like far too long a time. He goes to him and Tharkay's head rises.

“Are you enjoying the gardens?” Temeraire asks. “I have not seen you.”

“I have enjoyed the city, and I understand you are quite occupied with your family.”

“Well, certainly,” Temeraire replies, vaguely uneasy. “But not so _very_ occupied that I should not like to see you.” He pauses.

The gap stretches between them. Then Tharkay says, “I am trying to imagine Laurence here.”

“He said we could stay, perhaps,” Temeraire says. “If ever I wanted... he said we could stay together, away from the war.”

Temeraire once proposed to Granby that Laurence might like to live in China, and the man had scoffed and called the idea 'ludicrous'. Tharkay looks out over the garden. “Somehow it seems possible,” he says. “You would have done well here, both of you. But then, Laurence flourished wherever he went.”

Temeraire agrees. It is – _was_ – one of the many remarkable qualities about Laurence. But no one wants to hear the fantastic tales about Laurence on the sea, or in the air, or rushing through the Sultan's palace – no one, it seems, but Tharkay.

“Would you like to meet my mother?”

Tharkay looks at him curiously. “Another Celestial, I suppose.”

“She tells excellent stories, and I am sure you would appreciate the tea.”

“In that case, I could hardly refuse,” Tharkay says.

Temeraire is about to offer to fly them both when he recalls that he cannot; it is improper. He falls silent and says nothing until they arrive and meet with Qian.

* * *

 

A few days into their visit to Peking leaves Hammond increasingly concerned; he has had a very difficult times edging around the opium question, which is really of concern to no one but him. Though, as Tharkay has been tortured over it, Temeraire concedes that there must be _something_ serious about the drugs. “Our position is increasingly unstable,” Hammond tells them all. “And the Emperor refused to attend our last planned meeting. Indeed I am surprised that we are permitted to remain at all, unless they hope to gain something by our presence - “

Hammond looks at each officer in turn as he says this, agitation evident in his every motion. But when he turns to Temeraire he suddenly stops, falling entirely and abruptly silent.

* * *

 

Mianning has indicated that this meeting is very important, but it is arranged more like a celebration than a diplomatic talk.

A wonderful pavilion has been arranged outside, and long tables of gleaming dishes – many of which Temeraire has never seen before – are displayed for the human guests. For the dragons, all of whom are invited, the Imperial chefs have gone to great lengths to impress. Vats of shining fish curry are carried by, followed with roast duck on beds of rice with their feathers arranged in artful displays under the plates, skinless stuffed pigs, and giant potstickers with pounds of shrimp wrapped in thin crisps of dough. Even Maximus does not complain too much, although he does say very quietly that he does not see why there is no beef.

Mianning seems very graciously concerned about Temeraire's comfort. At first he had asked for Temeraire's dearest friends to be in attendance at the meeting; of course Temeraire named Tharkay, Maximus, Lily, Granby, and Roland, and very grudgingly he had added Hammond and Iskierka only because Hammond would complain at great length if he were not invited to anything and certainly Iskierka would too. But then it was only polite to invite Nitidus, Dulcia, and Messoria, who in fairness _are_ very good friends, and all their captains. After a bit of frowning Mianning seemed to change his mind, because he invited everyone.

Tharkay, Granby and Hammond are seated near the top of the table near Temeraire, with the other captains close by. Mianning is at the head, and several Chinese officials are also in attendance around them. Temeraire does not particularly recognize any of these, but most of them do not seem like very pleasant people. He wonders if they are Mianning's friends; the prince does not speak with them much.

There are many courses, as Temeraire has come to expect. The food is very good, and even when the English begin groaning he continues to eat. Tharkay is eating too, picking carefully at each course, and eventually Temeraire looks over and sees him expertly flicking bits onto Berkley's plate when the man is not paying attention. If Berkley notices anything strange he does not seem to mind; he is easily the largest man in attendance.

Dessert plates are brought out, and while Temeraire inspects his proffered pastry – a light yellow, almost translucent cake with whole walnuts inside – Mianning turns to him. “Lung Tien Xiang,” he says. “I have something which I would ask you.”

“Yes?” asks Temeraire, and pokes the cake.

But then Mianning says, “I cannot begin to imagine your grief for my lost brother,” and Temeraire focuses on him more closely.

Mianning continues: “His loss is a loss for both China and England, and will be remembered just as we shall mourn Lung Tien Chuan. But we who live must work for happier days, and I would not see you leave this place again still clinging to sorrow. Lung Tien Xiang, I would be honored if you would consent to be my companion.”

Temeraire stares. “Of course I will not have you,” he says.

Mianning freezes.

Several of the Chinese officials shoot looks at each other. “Temeraire,” says Hammond slowly. “Perhaps if you think upon the matter - “

“No, whyever should I have to think about it?” Temeraire demands. “I cannot, I will not have you. I already have a captain - Tharkay is my captain.”

“Who?” asks Mianning.

 _“Who?”_ asks Tharkay.

* * *

 

Iskierka is the one to suggest that Mianning may take their egg as a future-companion instead. Under the Chinese style it is an unorthodox arrangement, but one grudgingly accepted; it has to be accepted. The Chinese are less easily reconciled to the idea that yet another commoner has become Temeraire's companion.

Which is how Temeraire finds himself in private negotiations with Hammond, Mianning, and Tharkay. Hammond speaks frequently - “He is not of course related to the king, but his father was minor nobility - “ and Tharkay watches everything in grim silence, offering nothing.

He does not look at Temeraire. Not once.

When they break, pairs of Imperials watch murmuring as Tharkay and Temeraire walk through the gardens. It is only when there is no one in sight that Tharkay turns to him and says, “Why would you say it?”

“What?”

“You could have refused without the lie,” Tharkay says. “And without this commotion, either.”

“Lie – Oh!” It takes Temeraire a moment. “I did not lie – why would I lie about you being my captain? You are. And I do not see how anyone can object; you even have an Honorary commission by the Aerial Corps already. And I suppose Arkady will not mind _too_ much - “

“Arkady will not care a whit,” Tharkay says impatiently. “But tell me why, then, and make sure you have thought this through carefully. Anyone in this country, and many back in England, would be honored by your company.”

“You are the best person in the world – after Laurence, of course,” Temeraire says. “Whyever would I pick anyone else? Whyever would I want anyone at _all,_ but you?”

A pause. Tharkay gazes up at him. “The best – _after_ Laurence,” he clarifies.

Temeraire nods.

Tharkay looks at him quietly for a moment. Then he nods, seemingly to himself. “Then – perhaps we may give it a try,” he says softly.

Temeraire is so joyous he nearly bowls Tharkay over.

* * *

 

It is decided, after deliberation, that no one can be certain Tharkay's mother was _not_ of royal descent. He can say only that her personal name was Su Ah, and cannot recall any family name – probably because she did not know a family or was abandoned, but this point is helpfully ignored.

So in the Imperial documents he is marked down as Lung Tien Xiang's new companion, son of George Bogle and a woman of “unknown lineage, who was possibly an unknown royal descendent.”

“It is not _quite_ a lie,” Granby says later, but Tharkay only gives him a very dour look until the man apologizes.

Temeraire notes that Tharkay is not anywhere to be found for a few days; he wonders if he has made some sort of mistake, and appeals to Granby. But the young captain laughs at him. “Ha! He is hiding from the servants. They are all treating _him_ almost like a noble, now – he can't stand the attention. I am sure he is off skulking in some convenient shadows – and to think he used to mock - “ Granby hesitates.

Temeraire certainly does not understand why Tharkay does not want people to respect him properly, but the fact that Tharkay prefers to be inconspicuous is nothing new. In any case, Temeraire is not lonely; many of the other aviators have suddenly taken to lounging around his borrowed Pavilion, and talk to him about subjects at all hours. Even officers he knows very little, like Maximus' runners and midwingmen, stop by with a word or two.

Abruptly after a few days of this Tharkay returns and settles down on Temeraire's foreleg with a collection of short, shining knives. Temeraire watches with interest as he methodically sharpens and cleans each one, then sets about practicing his aim. He can send a knife flicking quickly through the air to pin down a leaf, or a stick of wood, with only a turn of his wrist. Tharkay practices for hours.

Temeraire is interested enough that he does not even mind when all the other visitors leave.

* * *

 

Hammond is having no success with the opium question. “The Emperor has agreed to send agents to investigate the individuals Mr. Tharkay remembers from his questioning,” which is a rather polite way to say _torture._ “But as he distinctly insisted on the presence of Shao Lung military dragons, and even named several well-known officers, we've fallen under suspicion for trying to destabilize the court – though what possible motive we could have, I cannot guess.”

“They suspect us of trying to solidify our trading position by removing our political enemies, I suspect,” says Tharkay. “It is a hard thing to argue when politics is likely the whole of the problem – though I cannot say I would go to these lengths for any petty quibbling.” He raises his hands. When one looks close, it is clear that his fingers are still not quite straight.

“Be that as it may,” Granby says, “We cannot stay forever; there is a war. Give it a week more, Hammond, and we must be leaving.”

Hammond argues vehemently, but at last he is forced to concede. One week, and no more.

* * *

 

Tharkay is sitting on Temeraire's foot and trying vainly to explain the importance of animal scat when hunting – Temeraire is extraordinarily dubious – when there is something of a commotion and a crowd of servants burst in upon them.

“Tien-Lung, Tien-Lung,” they cry. “Come at once!”

Startled, Temeraire asks for clarification, but the servants only gesture frantically and keep shouting. Finally Tharkay has to whistle sharply and demand a proper explanation, at which point one man says they are needed at the gate immediately.

Temeraire picks up Tharkay and jumps into the air. It is a quick flight, and when he sets toward the ground he immediately sees one of the Jade dragons, Lung Yu Fei, crouching low. Aside from this rare courier there are two Imperials and, most shockingly, the Emperor's own companion. Around the dragons dozens of humans stand at a respectful distance, some kowtowing while others peer around the area with clear excitement. The only one who seems entirely certain of himself is Lung Tien Chu, who presses against the tiny Jade Dragon to peer down at something with interest.

Temeraire, with a similar lack of restraint, lands right next to the older Celestial. The crowd immediately parts to give deference.

As Tharkay slides to the ground, Temeraire hears a ghost for the second time in his life:

“Good god, do I look Oriental? This is some very strange misunderstanding; and I will thank you to get me away from this dragon. If I may be brought to the British party here, I am sure this matter might be explained to everyone's satisfaction - “

Tharkay pushes past Chu's wing, which is not quite polite. Under the circumstances, however, it is certainly understandable, because Laurence is standing there and scolding the bemused Celestial as though he were a mere hatchling.

“And while I do not in the least find this behavior acceptable- “

Laurence freezes when he sees Tharkay, and then behind him Temeraire's significantly larger form. “Oh,” he says faintly. “ - I apologize; perhaps I am the one who is insane, after all.”

Tharkay steps forward to clasp Laurence by the arm. Peering closely, he says blankly, “You are filthy, and you have no neckcloth.” Laurence laughs at him.

Temeraire lets out a wordless sound of joy and moves to twine around his captains. They are both alive, safe, safe. And he will not let anyone hurt them ever again.

* * *

 

The aviators are obviously delighted to find Laurence alive, and then full of consternation when the Chinese officials appear and begin asking questions about his mental health which eventually make it clear that Laurence had entirely recently lost his memory.

Pettiforth says that Laurence will be fine – probably. “In almost all cases patients who regain their memories do not lose them again,” he says. This is not actually very reassuring.

When Mianning himself joins the joyful, growing crowd of aviators to greet Laurence – and command him to see the imperial doctor – Temeraire finally intercedes.

“Laurence will certainly not be going anywhere,” he says. “He has been away quite long enough, and if your doctor should like to see him he shall come _here._ Laurence will not leave – will you, Laurence?”

“I will stay until you grow weary of me, dear,” Laurence assures.

So Laurence is allowed to stay in his Pavilion, reading to Temeraire in Chinese as doctors fret and argue. Negotiations are stalled but no one quite seems to mind, except perhaps for Laurence himself; the atmosphere is far too delighted.

And through all this, it takes Temeraire a few days to notice that Tharkay has again disappeared.

* * *

 

Laurence is actually the one to mention it. He and Temeraire are with Granby and Iskierka, the latter of whom is boasting about the egg and saying that it does not even matter if this one _will_ go to Mianning because the next one will be even more splendid - “Next one?” asks Temeraire, alarmed – which eventually segues into apologies, on Temeraire's part, for abandoning Laurence in favor of securing the egg's safety.

“I would not have you dwell on it for a moment,” Laurence says. “You did your duty perfectly well, and that is no reason for guilt. I am certainly glad,” he adds, “That you had the foresight not to violate Japan's restrictions against foreigners for my sake.”

“Oh, but I most certainly would have flown over all of Japan if I could have,” says Temeraire earnestly, much to Laurence's dismay. “Only, drowning is much more serious a matter than I would have thought.”

Laurence leans forward, plainly baffled. Granby hastily interjects, “Anyway, I am glad Tharkay came along when he did in Nagasaki; I daresay Temeraire _would_ have started haring off to look for you without his convincing.”

“Well plainly that would have been best, since Laurence is alive after all,” Temeraire points out. “I do not understand why people continue to insist you are dead, Laurence, and it is a very unpleasant trick. Even Tharkay said it was true; I suppose I may never believe it now.”

“Where is Tenzing?” Laurence asks Granby suddenly, still frowning for some reason. “I do not believe I have seen him since the day of my return.”

Granby pauses for a moment. “Oh, hell.”

* * *

 

“Oh, you are being quite ridiculous; you can look for Tharkay yourself if you give Laurence to me, you know.”

Temeraire raises his ruff and fits Iskierka with a narrow eyed glare. Trapped within the Celestial's cupped talons, Laurence's voice rises in exasperation. “For once I quite agree with her, my dear; and will someone explain just what is happening?”

All the aviators have been thrown into a search, which Temeraire feels is really the only appropriate response. He flaps his own wings, but stays hunkered low to the ground over Laurence. An inquiry has made it clear that no one has seen Tharkay in over two days; Temeraire cannot help but think of the death of his brother Chuan as well as the near loss of Laurence. Everyone is being taken, as though there is some horrible conspiracy at work.

Most of the dragons are helping in the search, except for Iskierka - who says she needs to “make him see reason” - and also Churki, because Hammond is trying to convince the Chinese that they have not gone mad and that this sudden rush of dragons all over the city is not some sort of attack on Peking. The Incan dragon is particularly unimpressed with the whole matter and comes over to tell him so.

“If you are truly committed to having captains instead of _ayllu,_ I suppose that is your own choice, and you are young - though I cannot recommend beginning to expand your clan with another male. But it says nothing well when you are so careless with your second captain as soon as you get the first back. It is no wonder that you lost your Laurence so easily the first time if you are always so careless.”

“I am not careless at all!” Temeraire cries. “But there is so much danger, and my captains keep becoming hurt - “

“Captains?” asks Laurence quietly.

“You were dead, so Tharkay became his captain,” says Iskierka promptly. “Though you never stay dead, so you are still his captain, but I suppose Tharkay might be important anyway.”

“Of course Tharkay is important!” Temeraire says indignantly. “And I do not at all see why I cannot have two captains.”

“Oh, lord,” comes Granby's voice. He jogs up behind Iskierka. “Laurence – they have told you?”

“I – Tharkay?” Laurence seems bewildered.

“He was a great comfort to Temeraire, as I said.” Granby sounds almost guilty. “But I can explain another time – we have found him.”

At once Temeraire leans forward. “Where?” he demands.

Granby sighs.

* * *

 

Tharkay refuses to explain what he was doing in what is possibly the one area of Peking that frequently encounters crime; Laurence looks entirely exasperated and tells him to find someone to stab if he is so very bored, instead of trying to _get_ stabbed.

For Temeraire, this is only a confirmation that Tharkay is certain to encounter danger without him. He will not lose both him and Laurence again, and so as soon as Tharkay returns he plucks up both his captains – ignoring their protests – and flies away.

There does not seem to be any immediate pursuit, but once out of sight of the others Temeraire backtracks and dodges around very sneakily to be quite sure. At first he does not quite know _where_ he intends to go, but that is really irrelevant. Peking falls away under them as Laurence demands, “Temeraire, return us this instant.”

“I shall not. You are both determined to get killed, and I will not allow it.”

“In Laurence's case, that might be a reasonable concern,” Tharkay notes. “I am not sure when I have got myself declared dead, however.”

There is a muffled sound of indignation.

Temeraire thinks wistfully of the lovely island pavilion where the British party stayed during their first visit to China; of course, it was promptly attacked by assassins, so as a safe-harbor it would make a dubious refuge at best. After some contemplation he turns north-east; Laurence is a prince, and no one at all can complain if Temeraire takes him to the Summer Palace. He has been there once before and knows the way.

Laurence and Tharkay cease complaining for the rest of the flight, which in his opinion is an excellent sign. They come upon the Palace in just over an hour.

When they land Temeraire deposits the pair on a beautiful shore in sight of the lake. The Palace is situated on a hill overlooking the water, surrounded by rows of even trees. Laurence, shaking out his legs, steps out of Temeraire's claws and turns to Tharkay. “I expect that the return flight shall be problematic; and I would offer apologies, except I begin to suspect that I am not all at fault.”

Tharkay stiffens.

“You have hidden something from me,” Laurence says.

“...It is no longer of any importance,” says Tharkay. “I would not have had you think - “ but he stops, uncharacteristically, and is silent.

Laurence frowns. “Why would you hide it? Surely you could not fear censure.”

At that, Tharkay laughs bitterly. “Censure, no, not from you; if there is nothing technically inappropriate in the works you might look sideways and frown all you like, but you would never _censure._ But any man may be brought to resentment.”

“You thought I would resent you?” Laurence asks, baffled. “For helping Temeraire? I hope I am not so mean as that; on the contrary I should rightfully owe you the world. It is a great comfort to me, the greatest comfort, to imagine that you will be with Temeraire should I die.”

“Who is dying?” demands Temeraire.

They ignore him. “But you are not dead,” says Tharkay.

Laurence pauses. “No. But it would be a great comfort to have you, anyway. Should you agree to stay.”

This, Temeraire understands; he turns his head anxiously to follow Laurence's gaze. Surely Tharkay does not mean to leave them?

Tharkay stares at Laurence. “I do not understand you,” he says. “Sometimes I think I will never understand you.”

“Then is that not all the more reason to agree?” asks Temeraire anxiously. “You will never understand if you leave.”

Tharkay glances up at him. And, miraculously, he smiles faintly. “Well, you make a hard argument,” he says, addressing Laurence. “ - I will remain as long as you will have me.”

Temeraire sits back on his haunches, pleased. _These_ are terms with which he is well-satisfied.

“Now perhaps,” Tharkay adds, turning to the Celestial, “We may address the matter of returning to our company?”

* * *

 

Upon their (eventual) return there is some tiresome business about opium and the war which Temeraire does not much care for. He gathers eventually that Tharkay's testimony regarding his torture has led to the capture of a general in charge of the opium-smuggling debacle, and dragons are being sent with the British to help them fight Napoleon by means of apology.

The _actually_ important thing is this: when they leave Peking Temeraire flies away with two captains on his back, certain that he will never, ever again be left alone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I might eventually post a companion-fic detailing poor Laurence's very confused trip to China after chasing the Potentate and getting picked up by a Jade Dragon. He is not a Chinese prince. Really. Why won't anyone believe him? ;)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Home is wherever I'm with you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10225493) by [LakeGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakeGirl/pseuds/LakeGirl)




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